


Pâtisserie

by Cinnamaldeide



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Based on a Tumblr Post, Don’t copy to another site, Drabble Sequence, Fanart, Hannibal owns a bakery, Hannibal transferred his passion for anatomy into the confectionery arts, M/M, Not Beta Read, Season/Series 01, Will appreciates his pastries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 15:36:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16935936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamaldeide/pseuds/Cinnamaldeide
Summary: Hannibal owns the cute bakery by which Will passes most days, without knowing what those fragrant pastries taste like. Until one rainy November morning. An experimental one-shot composed of drabbles.Written for Hannibal Cre-Ate-Ive’s #BothOfUs, in collaboration with LazyBaker, inspired bythis poston Tumblr





	1. Doberge Petits Fours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LazyBaker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyBaker/gifts).



> Granpappy-Winchester laid out all those tags, which practically _were_ a story on their own, and left. That simply wasn’t fair. I’d say she had it coming, when I asked permission to expand them. This beautiful fanart is their wonderful doing :) Warning for the unhealthy amount of Gallicisms

  
[Fanart by LazyBaker](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com/post/180987458646/)  


 

 

“I was late this morning, had no time for breakfast,” Beverly lamented, dismissive of her poor sleeping schedule, perfectly aware Will shared a similar situation, “but I do in fact believe in the importance of eating something along with coffee, first meal of the day and all that.” 

Will could hardly spare the time to shower lately, before Jack called him in for a case. “There’s this cute pastry shop just around the corner of our lab, I always pass it by and never get myself _inside_ ,” she continued, extending Will an unremarkable cookie. “I bought three. Still no regrets.” 

#will hearing about the bakery from bev

 

 

Choosing not to dwell too much on his own pallor, which Will was _sure_ prompted Beverly to approach him with a source of calories, he accepted her offer with ginger fingers and lowered eyes. Will knew she meant well, her gesture more comradely than pitiful, and his head did feel a little dizzy after having looked at the crime scene. 

“Tell Jack I won’t be anymore useful today,” Will admitted, apologetic, forcing himself to overcome his embarrassment and self-consciously utter his meager _thanks_ before she could comply with his request. She winked and left him alone with his glucose income. 

#who gives will a cookie because he may or may not have passed out at a crime scene due to low blood sugar/various troubles

 

 

Will’s experience of biscuits and confectionery was entirely restricted to his lackadaisical purchase of packaged snacks from a supermarket of choice, usually selected from a not particularly furnished section of unattractive cakes and modest bags of over-sweetened candy bars. 

The conglomerate of butter and flour Beverly had handed him, with just the right amount of chocolate chips to savour its flavour but not to overwhelm his taste buds, tasted like resting his mollified body in a comfortable chair to the autumn sunlight. It didn’t feel like compensating for his low blood sugar, rather like touching blitheness with tongue and lips. 

#and its a delicious cookie like holy shit will actually feels happy and GOOD when he eats this cookie

 

 

It couldn’t hurt to try this pastry shop out for himself, Will decided. He might have absently noticed it already between lessons and consultations, which was more than could be said of its competitors, and Will was rather tired of considering the canteen a viable option just to fool himself. He wasn’t credible anymore. 

On a rainy November day, after teaching his class about the Chesapeake Ripper’s latest sounder of pigs, Will rang that indolent doorbell over the Pâtisserie, scrolling his umbrella in its welcoming entrance, allowing an assault of fragrant aromas to overpower the strong scent of wet asphalt. 

#and so he goes to the bakery on his way home after class

 

 

If the elegant décor and tasteful colour scheme of the quiet, intimate place weren’t sufficient to intuit its stylish, mildly intimidating intent, many beautiful replications of famous paintings and architectural examples in pencil and charcoal adorned its walls. 

Will approached the closest with rapt wonder, brows frowned to discern flexing muscles and unfamiliar buildings. The amount of detail was impressive. _Surely imported_ , Will thought, lips parted in astonishment. Such opulence would hardly reflect the kind of environment Will normally attended. He felt so misplaced while still clutching his dripping umbrella. The rain might have been a preferable alternative after all. 

#its a small intimate place –classy as fuck– and EXPENSIVE looking inside and already will is shriveling up and feeling out of place

 

 

Before Will could close his mouth and inconspicuously depart, an unexpectedly welcoming gentleman appeared from behind the counter, silently exhibiting comfortable clothes and an entirely professional smile; not forced nor unforthcoming, just charming in its own particular way. Hands primly kept behind his back, hiding his bare wrists beyond a pristine apron. 

Judging by his proud stance, Will was facing the owner, whom apparently provided the small, inviting pastries himself. Had, in fact, just been interrupted. His broad shoulders were so relaxed, nonetheless, Will’s own uncoiled a bit in sympathy. “An interesting weather,” he observed, affable. “Please, have a seat.” 

#but then out comes hannibal–big warm presence with his white apron and rolled up sleeves and sweet smile directed right at will

 

 

“Ah,” Will uttered, unprepared, matching his courtesy with speechless embarrassment. “I’m in a hurry, actually,” Will recovered, not entirely sounding convincing in his blatant excuse.  


His poised attendant remained unperturbed in front of Will’s abrupt manner, merely indicated his own sweet selection to encourage Will closer. Patiently waiting for Will to overcome his reticence.  


The sight admittedly persuaded Will to approach the miniature masterpieces on display. _Real dilemma_ , Will though, before selecting randomly. “One of these. To go,” Will said. “Please.”  


His politeness surprisingly elicited an amiable smile in his tender, prompting Will’s eyes to raise. He hadn’t intended to.  


#and will gruffly points at a random pastry when hannibal asks and he tries so hard not to make any eye contact but he ends up LOOKING

 

 

The glimpse of delighted satisfaction Will intercepted on his smooth face felt more fulfilling than any confectionery ever could.  


At such unwarranted contentment, Will searched for a name tag on his large chest, pinned on his shirt pocket he assumed, before suddenly realising that was not the kind of place for _tags_. To divert his uneasiness, Will admired his precise hands at work, wrapping Will’s purchase delicately, turning an undisplayed machine on with quick fingers. Will wondered about their nimbleness, before a cup of fragrant coffee appeared for him.  


“Something warm to fend off this cold rain,” Will was offered.  


#and hannibal is warm when he wraps up will’s dessert and gives him a free cup of coffee since its his first time here

 

 

Will anticipated with immediate clarity the futility of a refusal, as well as its undue wariness. His kind offer wouldn’t necessary imply Will’s loyalty as regular customer, and bribery often proved to be an effective marketing strategy; nothing personal about it.  


Declining the courtesy would be plain incivil, Will reasoned, trying and failing to convince himself he wasn’t accepting the coffee in consequence of the flattering, subtle appreciation depicted in the owner’s unwavering eyes. “Thanks,” he blunted.  


_He might have a thing for uniforms_ , his brain unintelligently supplied, when Will noticed his interested glance at his own temporary FBI badge.  


#(also hannibal thinks hes cute and hannibal may have seen the fbi badge under will’s coat that he forgot to take off)

 

 

Predictably, the blessed emptiness which persuaded Will to remain so far didn’t last long. The idle doorbell soon announced the arrival of another client, therefore entitling him to flee to his parked station wagon to consume his pastry in solitude.  


Without further delay, Will unwrapped and sampled his unadorned biscuit with tentative teeth and curious lips. Dark chocolate melted on top, delicate crème fraîche inside. An unexpected bitter note after the initial sweetness.  


Will purposefully aimed for pastries with nice, simple designs and apparently uncomplicated flavours, in order not to overwhelm his tongue as previously happened. _Vain attempt_ , he acknowledged.  


#will eats the pastry in his car right there in the parking lot and its even more delicious than the cookie

 

 

If his morsel of bliss hadn’t been enough for Will to produce undignifying sounds, then the hot, rich beverage gently flooding his eager mouth and gracing his waiting throat shortly after would certainly have. Perfect without additional sugar, which Will conveniently forgot.  


Will rarely treated himself to such culinary pleasures, preferring the practicality of his instant coffee and vending machines if at all indulging his unpronounced sweet tooth. He hadn’t expected his beatitude to continue until late afternoon, after having absentmindedly walked his dogs and idly laid in bed, entirely too awake for comfort. Still inexplicably rested the following morning.  


#and he drinks the coffee which makes him moan its so damn amazing and for the rest of the night and most of tomorrow will is distracted

 

 

Facing his mirror with residual sleep in his eyes, preparing a mug of strong, fortifying coffee of his own domestic variety, allowing his strays to relieve themselves outside, Will gradually admitted to himself his sense of fulfillment wasn’t entirely due to a lovely second breakfast.  


Those big, efficient hands hadn’t been the sole focus of Will’s attention.  


In his rapid gaze, Will had looked behind his pleasing manners and professional detachment. Their rapid exchange had highlighted the man’s slightly accented voice, his gentle, soothing tone. His angular, inconveniently attractive face, rendered even more striking by his evident engrossment in Will.  


#by hannibal and his pastries and coffee and handsome face and that accent and voice and how he LOOKED at will

 

 

It hadn’t been a deliberate process, but Will found himself increasingly often frequenting the sophisticated bakery, regular in his unpredictable schedule despite his initial purpose; actually enjoying his sporadic conversation with Hannibal Lecter, owner and pâtissier, whenever the customer flow allowed.  


“I have been wondering whether the amount of stevia in your coffee had been adequate,” he had offhandedly confessed to Will upon his first return. “I feared the licorice note might have been an inopportune touch.”  


“Is my southern accent still so strong?” Will had inquired, embarrassed, silently impressed with his trained ear. With his understanding complacency, later on.  


#so will goes back again and again and he manages to actually talk with hannibal and finds he LIKES talking with this strange baker

 

 

Unsurprisingly, it hadn’t occurred to Will to consider their acquaintance could evolve into an engaging emotional connection, between insightful remarks and heating stares; not until Jack requested his non-negotiable presence in Minnesota for an investigation.  


Will had been given to believe his service would terminate upon the Shrike’s arrest, which fortuitously happened in the following days. Will hadn’t estimated that Jack would extend his stay to dispel his own suspicion on the serial killer’s daughter, whom possibly her father had used to bait his young victims. Repulsed as Will was at the prospect, Jack might have been right in suspecting.  


#then he has to go out of state for a case for a few days which turns into weeks

 

 

In the two long weeks he spent between Hobbs’ hunting trophies, Will would often spare a brief moment to regret not having requested Hannibal’s number before his own departure. He would admire the unremarkable phone from his unremarkable bed in his unremarkable room, imagining their awkward, tentative conversation. “I’m sorry I couldn’t drink your coffee today,” Will would hypothetically begin, “I’ve been rummaging in a murderer’s mind across the border.”  


“I’m sure you won’t be surprised to learn that coffee hadn’t been alone in waiting for you in vain,” Hannibal would answer. “The sandwich felt neglected as well,” he’d add.  


#he lies in his depressing motel bed regretting he didn’t ask for hannibal’s number and knows it’d be weird to just call the bakery to chat

 

 

Cultivating some counterproductive, cathartic expectations on their reunion, Will leisurely let some weeks pass deluding himself that fantasizing about their encounter would starve his desire to admire Hannibal’s pleased, welcoming smile upon his arrival.  


When Will finally heard the frontal doorbell ring announcing his entrance, suitcase still in his car, not yet unpacked after his journey, the brisk sound almost surprised him. An insignificant detail, compared to Hannibal’s company, like the perfect compositions of chocolate and sugar in exposition. Colorful macarons and Sachertorte slices among which unexpectedly stood out certain beautiful squared pastries bearing the plaque _Sors avec moi, Will_.  


#so weeks go by and the first thing will does when he gets back is go to the bakery and he sees the ‘date me will’ pastry

 

 

Will blushing lightly at the remarkable name. _Surely a coincidence_ , he assumed.  


“They have been expecting your judgement since their creation. My other customers already appreciated them,” Hannibal complained, drawing attention from the pastries Will recognized as doberge petits fours. “Something to remind you of your culinary roots, if you please,” he said, approaching Will with meek strides, unnecessarily adjusting his immaculate apron.  


“You wanted to surprise me,” Will extrapolated, wondering whether the confectionery was in fact meant to flatter him. To convey an untold attraction for him. To preen for him through his capable hands and repeated attempts.  


#hannibal had put it out every day waiting for will to come in and will is flustered and BEYOND flattered hannibal would do this for him

 

 

“This verges on improper,” Hannibal admitted demurely. “You may perceive it forward of me to express my interest in such an ostentatious manner.”  


He didn’t appear particularly apologetic. Instead, Will noticed Hannibal’s quiet eagerness, his insecure restlessness, as if Will’s disbelieving reaction elicited an undue concern on his part. “I found it prudent to ensure my intentions would be rather hard to misinterpret,” Hannibal primly concluded, barely concealing his own visible delight at Will’s return.  


Will would have found his inner turmoil curiously endearing, weren’t he currently suffering Hannibal’s same intense embarrassment. Will was just as evidently, awkwardly, _reciprocally_ attracted.  


#(hannibal himself is flustered and relieved and full of SOMETHING warm and hot and needy at will coming back and will seeing his surprise)

 

 

Words momentarily deserted Will, in place of which settled an atypical silence. It distracted Will more than Hannibal’s covetous eyes, as did the low lighting and surreal atmosphere.  


He didn’t remember the warm place ever needed artificial light, considering its closure time. Contrary to the vast majority of his gastronomic competitors, Hannibal was rather considerate about the working schedule of himself and his employés. In his opinion, as Hannibal disclosed to Will, a good meal required time, it wouldn’t do to rush it.  


_He should already be home, preparing dinner_ , Will thought, as his face promptly telegraphed. _Why isn’t he?_  


#they look at each other over the counter –the bakery is empty as it is technically an hour passed closing–

 

 

“Technically, it is past time to lock my kitchen, but business hours are,” Hannibal performed a dismissive gesture of his hand, “not something you should be concerned over.”  


His offer flattered Will even further, gave reasons to his blush to deepen, his breath to falter, his heartbeat to increase. “I’m sorry,” _for keeping you here more than you should have, for not having realised sooner_ , “I didn’t want to keep you.”  


“Never apologize for coming to me,” Hannibal answered, preparing his pastry pliers to reach for a specific square among his brown and yellow cubes. “Not even when particularly late.”  


#(hannibal had been keeping the bakery open later and later just in case will would appear with the ring of the bell over the door)

 

 

Nostalgia assaulted Will at the sight of those deft hands maneuvering the selected pastry. It compelled Will to muster his long forgotten boldness. “I know it sounds pathetic to ask you on a date in your own shop,” Will began, eyes fixed on Hannibal’s exposed forearms. “Would _that_ even count as date,” Will wondered, not entirely convinced his awkward rambling could be considered an invitation anymore. “Just eating those here, together. You and me.”  


Will searched for signs of contempt or indignation in Hannibal’s expression, usually reserved for particularly tasteless customers. Thankfully, he found none. “If you’re okay with that?”  


#hannibal starts to pack the pastry up for will when will tells him hed 'like to eat it here. with you. if thats okay?’

 

 

Had his proposition met Hannibal’s reticence, elicited an embarrassed grimace or a tired sigh, Will would have retreated. Accepting refusals with a certain dignity was common practice for Will. Instead, the loving gaze Hannibal bestowed upon him would have caramelized sugar, which Will presumed wasn’t Hannibal’s prefered melting method. He seemed rather touched by Will’s suggestion, if his besotted beam was anything to go by.  


It was comforting to see them both were equally affected by their paradoxical situation, Will considered as Hannibal gestured towards an inconspicuous chair lit by an outdoor street lamp. Rain gently slit through its light.  


#hannibal beams at him and will’s heart does that funny clenching thing and they sit at the table by the window watching as it begins to rain

 

 

“This unbecoming weather would hardly befit a rendez-vous in any case,” Hannibal observed, plating their servings with little clatters. “I much prefer the comfort of my own shop.”  


“Where you apparently sell pastries called _date me Will_ ,” he retorted. “I still can’t believe you faced your customers every morning after that.”  
“The majority assumed the name was an invitation to choose my little _doberge_ samples over other productions,” Hannibal confessed, visibly containing his mirth. “French is largely undervalued nowadays. There was no need for me to explain.”  


Hannibal’s foot touched Will’s under the table. It seemed deliberate, but both startled.  


#and turning metaphors into something tangible and when will touches the back of hannibal’s hand hannibal drops his fork onto the floor

 

 

Will barely registered the clink of metal on marble, before realising Hannibal’s fork leveled with their shoes. Neither looked at it.  
“You knew I would understand,” Will said.  


“I suspect you understand a great deal more than some remnans of creole,” Hannibal retorted, uncaring for his lost cutlery. “Your particular insight might perhaps expose you to some unsavoury experiences, but I wouldn’t pledge you for a man wont to break under such weight,” Hannibal admitted with an appreciative glint in his eyes, “which fascinates me.”  


Will felt like his skull had been gently pried open. He didn’t necessarily disliked it.  


#neither of them notice

 

 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks to [Nephila_clavipes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nephila_clavipes/pseuds/nephila_clavipes) for listening to my initial rambling and for supporting me with lovely pictures and background informations on Louisiana typical sweets. This was supposed to be a surprise for Granpappy but I then proceeded involving her instead... I was so glad to see her appreciate my work, I really love her so much. She’s an amazing writer, as well as a talented artist.  
> This is experimental. I tried writing a drabble for every tag, which would form a whole story. I struggle so much with Coffee Shop AUs, I needed to set a goal for myself. Would anyone appreciate my results? Is this path worth further exploration? Would you prefer the classic version? Let me know your opinion :)


	2. Paper-thin crêpes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was one last tag I deliberately didn’t consider in my previous chapter.  
> This was indeed supposed to surprise LazyBaker ;)

“I still wonder sometimes what exactly makes your coffee taste so wonderful,” Will admitted with genuine wonder one morning, drinking his generous serving from an elegant ceramic cup belonging in Hannibal’s private collection. In his lavish, intimidating dining room.

“There shall remain some mystery to my life inside the kitchen,” Hannibal playfully asserted, offering him an artfully presented plate of paper-thin crêpes and warm Lebkuchen. “You may benefit from my expertise, while abstaining from dissecting my secrets.”

Will’s emotional attachment to those infamous doberge petits fours certainly didn’t deter him from appreciating Hannibal’s remaining repertoire of desserts, each meringue and fragrant pie slice a unique treat for his palate.

“An implicit agreement,” Will paraphrased, “to silently trust whatever you put in my mouth.”

On those rare occasions Hannibal conceded himself to leave unsupervised his pâtisserie in the morning, Will learned about his propensity for rising at ungodly hours, the kind of which Will himself was uncomfortably acquainted with. _Rather convenient in his line of work_ , Will had thought upon such discovery, subsequently dreading their compatibility as light sleepers.

It merely meant Will frequently enjoyed a rich breakfast in his weekends. “You ever settle for scrambled eggs and toast? Even the coffee is not the usual American kind,” Will needled in a sleepy voice.

“While I value the benefit of salty breakfasts to start the day, I much prefer the sugar intake provided by sweet products, fruits and milk,” Hannibal said, smoothly glossing over his own professional interest in confectionery consumption.

“So _European_ ,” Will commented, before Hannibal could rectify his assumption and indicate in which European Country was in fact preferable smoked salmon and bread for breakfast to tea and biscuits.

In front of their inexplicably perfect coffee, Will savoured an intimate moment of quietness, overwhelmed in bliss. Light caressed Hannibal’s disturbingly unruffled hair, as he buttered his croissant. Killers in his own rested mind blessedly kept at bay.

Will could almost spare a moment to simultaneously dread and savour the slow approaching of Valentine’s day, like any stable partner would. Except for Hannibal’s monstrous reflection on his knife, which Will couldn’t explain, nor admit to himself, let alone voice out loud for the both of them.

“I wonder if my _particular insight_ will ruin this,” Will idly gestured at the space between them, unable to find a fitting term, “whatever we’re sharing.”

At Hannibal’s static expression, or more accurately lack thereof, Will almost regretted having opened his mouth. He stuffed some warm toast into it for good measure.

Were they even sharing something at all, Will helplessly pondered.

“I’ve been deceiving.” Hannibal kept his eyes averted, breaking their uncomfortable silence. “I enjoy providing sustenance for you, revel in knowing you consider me a reliable source of nourishment,” Hannibal said, tone low and private, “but I enormously prefer your uncommon attempt at glimpsing beyond my elaborate presentations, the sour chicory notes in your coffee you never corrected,” Hannibal elaborated.

Will fell silent to his assertive, longing tone.

“I like you in virtue of your mind, Will, not in spite of it,” Hannibal specified.

“You might be the only one,” Will observed, self-deprecating. “Not even my boss appreciates my mirth when we find four and a half liters of blood at a crime scene to kindly deliver to the nearest Red Cross.” _Flowers and chocolate before a first date_ , Will had interpreted then.

Tasteless to mention now, he reproached himself for thinking of bringing it up presently.

“Your boss lacks sense of humour,” Hannibal defended him, apparently comfortable despite the gruesome subject. “Blood is extremely valuable in hospitals. Surgeons always lament the inadequacy or shortage of donors in their establishments,” he continued, seemingly impressed at the considerate gesture of the murderer.

Will fell a little bit in love with his unperturbed attitude. “You’re informed on the matter.”

“Blood is also considered a viable substitute for eggs in sweet products, especially in case of food allergies, due to their similar protein composition,” Hannibal said indulgently, smiling at Will with complicity. “You would be surprised at the scarce moral compunction infused in the culinary art, my dear.”

Will marvelled at his words, incapable of drawing his eyes from Hannibal’s smirking mouth, from his clever tongue moistening pliable lips and sharp teeth, before taking a modest bite of his friable pastry; all of the sudden morbidly fascinated with whatever in his person needed further unraveling.

  
#hannigram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An interesting article about blood as substitute for eggs :)  
> Please consider becoming a blood donor and, of course, leaving a comment ;)  
> Post on [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/posts/372807) and [Tumblr](https://cinnamaldeide.tumblr.com/post/182705156079/p%C3%A2tisserie-chapters-2-fandom-hannibal-tv)


End file.
